


Rerunning Aberration

by SansThePacifist



Series: Soul Eater Stories [1]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, F/M, Funeral, Grieving, Headcanons + Canon Scenes, Kinda, Loss, Major character death - Freeform, Mourning, Multi, Other, There might be some disturbing stuff in here- not realy sure though, many years that were actually seconds, soul is probably pretty ooc, tbh SoMa could be read as brOTP or OTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansThePacifist/pseuds/SansThePacifist
Summary: He didn’t know how they won. How could they have won with Maka gone? When she wasn’t there to give him her bravery. He still refused to believe she was gone, so did Spirit, it seemed. The funeral took him by surprise and it really only sunk in then as he stood in a black suit staring at her open casket. Beautiful flowers lay beneath her on top of white linen sheets. She looked soft, peaceful, relaxed. He had never really seen her with the bright make up they put on her but it still worked wonderfully, her hair was down and seemed to be in slight waves. He gulped, tears starting to brim again before picking up a small, pretty flower and placing it in her hair. He bit his lip once more but failed to hold the tears back. He turned to hide somewhere that nobody would see him cry.





	Rerunning Aberration

**Author's Note:**

> Well, In one of the intro songs, there is a scene of Soul holding a limp (and rather dead looking) Maka. I am a SUCKER for angst and felt like writing some death~!

His heart lurched and dropped. He hurt all over, throbbed, but he would throw aside that pain to run over to his friend- his partner- his- his.. She dropped to the floor like a rag doll, the kishin laughing wildly and talking to himself about knowing it, knowing that all of this would happen. Soul sat there, weak and practically helpless and- his vision went blurry and he couldn’t think or think or-! His breathing stuttered and his chest felt so tight, oh so tight. He world felt like it was shattering as he stared at his meister. Tears rose to his eyes and he tried to blink them back as he made sounds of anger-sadness-grief-shock. He stumbled to his feet, weak and willing himself to be by her side, to pick her up and hold her to his chest, bridal style.

She wasn’t breathing.

She was still warm but there was no pulse.

He grit his teeth angrily, “Come on, Maka.” He slapped her pale cheeks gently in a weak and worthless attempt to get to wake up- to be with him again. She was getting colder by the second and he wanted to _scream_ . His brows were furrowed and he chewed on his bottom lip, trying to hold the tears that were starting to brim and fall. His voice was weak but even more frantic as he attempted again, “C’mon, Maka, come on..!” He held her closer, choking on a sob as he tried _again_ , “Wake up.” She was dead, he knew she was dead, but he refused to believe it. He held back a shout, a scream, anything, and it came out as a whine.

She couldn’t be dead. She was too good, too great, to be dead. He refused. She couldn’t be dead. He closed his eyes, standing- _when had he stood up_ , and screamed at the world, at the kishin, at himself for not being able to protect her, at how cold she felt in her arms even though he was holding her. Kid and BlackStar were up again but he felt like any chances they had were gone again. He couldn’t. _He couldn’t_.

They were speaking and fighting again but his knees were weak and his throat hurt and- he couldn’t hear them. Everything felt like cotton, cotton in his ears, cotton in his throat, cotton on the edges of his fingers. His knees finally buckled, after who knows how long, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore, bursting into another fit of sobs.

 

He didn’t know how they won. How could they have won with Maka gone? When she wasn’t there to give him her bravery. He still refused to believe she was gone, so did Spirit, it seemed. The funeral took him by surprise and it really only sunk in then as he stood in a black suit staring at her open casket. Beautiful flowers lay beneath her on top of white linen sheets. She looked soft, peaceful, relaxed. He had never really seen her with the bright make up they put on her but it still worked wonderfully, her hair was down and seemed to be in slight waves. He gulped, tears starting to brim again before picking up a small, pretty flower and placing it in her hair. He bit his lip once more but failed to hold the tears back. He turned to hide somewhere that nobody would see him cry.

When he came out, he was immediately hugged by one of his friends and they said something but he only responded with a noncommittal huff. He couldn’t really find it in himself to word or even attempt to feel emotion. His eyes were pretty blank, empty, while still puffy and pink from crying. His breath caught in his throat as soon as someone mentioned in poorly hidden gossip that he would need a new meister. He resonated so well, so often, with her than he had almost understood her like the back of his hand.

 

He, surprisingly, didn’t really care much when he became a death scythe and when the witches as well as DWMA made an alliance or treaty of sorts. He didn’t really care when his past friends ended up with relationships and families. He didn’t really care when he watched Kid become a wonderful master. Except he did. It all hurt in a familiar, cold way. His heart, his chest, would hurt each time he saw someone he used to know succeed while he was still hung up on Maka. It all hurt so much because he would turn, expecting to see her, even after all these years, and find nothing. Nothing but air. But she was supposed to be there, by his side, as his meister, the person who would have made him a Death scythe.

She should had been there, been there always, to see them all pass expectations and boundaries. He wanted to see who she would have wound up with, wound up doing, wound up being. But he couldn’t. She was dead. She was _gone_. He wouldn’t see her do all the things she wanted to do, to be. No. Something was wrong with this all. Those lamps never looked like that, they shouldn’t look like that. He stared at the lamps blankly, and watched as everything shattered.

That was an illusion.

 

  
  
He was back on the battleground once more, the complex illusion shattered. His mind was left rearing but he had no time to think because the kishin sent an attack her way and she was only _bracing_ for it. So, of course, he was shielding her with his own body.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed~ <3


End file.
